nothing, and i mean NOTHING, compares to joining a new fandom and reading through all the ____ x reader tags. it’s akin to opening gifts on christmas or recieving a package in the mail. actually, scratch that; it’s th equivalent of ascending to the heavens
ak! jason sometimes jerks off in front of you with the suit on when he doesn't feel like fucking you. it's disgusting, honestly. he doesn't even look at your face, sometimes he'll keep your face pressed to the floor if you've been misbehaving. you can hear him groaning from above, though, little swears slipping from the mask. "fuck, don't look at me, don't deserve all that, just listen. maybe i'll cum in your mouth," he says it like it's a prize. maybe you're just so brainwashed that it sounds like one because you listen, you keep your face pressed against the floor until you feel him pull you up by the back of your hair. "not a word, keep your mouth open." he'll act like it's for you, but he knows he can't cum without seeing your face at least once anymore.
arkham knight!jason todd x female!reader: angst with comfort, mentions of scalpel, blood; usual arkham survival but no gore-like details [requested!]
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"if i were you i wouldn't lay a finger on her." you immediately mute your microphone, hiding your quick breathing. letting the enemy know that you're on the verge of spiralling wasn't what alfred had commanded you to do.
the person at the other end laughs. your eyes widen. you hope he hasn't infiltrated the cameras in the room. not after he got his hands on barbara. you had taken the wheel in a rush.
"scary." the modulated filter turns his already sarcastic remark into a more degrading layer. "for a man like batman he sure does love to lose his essential members."
more blood is about to rain down on gotham. "don't flatter yourself. barbara is not to be underestimated... taking advantage of a woman in a wheelchair isn't fair game!"
the line goes silent.
"oh, you can't play these tricks with me." it doesn't carry lightness anymore. "you should finally open your eyes and see that batman does not care about unarmed civilians." there is spacing between his words, emphasizing the last ones. "and let me tell you something: if you were there instead he wouldn't have saved you either."
"wrong," you gulp, the back-and-forth affecting you too much than you are willing to accept, "he wasn't there. he can't be everywhere at once. you kidnapped her once you got the opportunity."
"if that's what your truth is. it's been hours and he hasn't granted us a visit. quite the batman tradition, don't you think so, (name)? leaving people behind until he can push them down for good."
your palms are sticky, your throat encircled by an imaginary scarf. alfred had suggested you to replace her. you were supposed to be another blank face in the eyes of scarecrow and the arkham knight. the inactive cameras and black screens are aimed at you. it was nearly impossible that he got access to bab's system too.
"that's false. batman would never abandon-"
"don't you dare speak out those lies! all he does is to collect people until they are stacked on a pile so he can feel good about himself, do you hear me?!"
you pray he can't keep up with your heaving. the modulator, the emotions, the frustration. all three components were out of place. not what you expected from someone you vilified. it humanizes him - makes him more of a man struggling against existing problems and less of a caricature of just another gothamite with a sick and twisted agenda.
"how- how does your involvement make anything better? hell, the entire city is gone! take it out on batman if that's what you want!" you form your hand into a fist, your jaw grinding. it's his fault that the buildings are empty.
"tch..." he is sassy. you know men like him, those who deem themselves mighty. "if bruce had kept his principles from the start, we wouldn't have this outcome. but it's all an act of his and he is quite good at it. look at you, still believing that he could save any of you."
goosebumps climb up your neck.
"what bruce? do you seriously mean a himbo-"
"don't even try. hah, he would've been better off as an actor, don't you agree? now he has all these victims on his conscience - no, no, batman doesn't bother himself with that. it was never about the innocent, always criminals he can punish to feel better about himself."
a black dot ingrains itself into your view, following you. this scares you more than the actual call itself. bruce would never hurt civilians, it is not worth debunking that. false, you shake your head, this is his tactic to mess with you.
"stop. i know what you're doing - you try to put me against him. i can't tell how you got his name but you won't make me despise him." more doesn't come out of your mouth. you don't know where to begin. the thread had no end.
the arkham knight stays quiet too.
"i'll prove ya. just watch."
then the connection gets cancelled.
you should get advice from pennyworth on how to secure the software and add cybersecurity. batman is already overloaded. what would he say if he heard that his persona could be leaked at any time... would the arkham knight do it? he seemed to carry it around like a secret, a tool for him rather than against bruce wayne.
in an attempt to not do more damage you connect your device to a small screen, plugging in headphones as you pull a cowl over yourself. you lock the door and step down the countless stairs. meeting in the batcave was more dangerous than shouting from the clock tower itself. you keep a radius of distance before sending the message. this area of the town was taken out of service. squadding down between an old buffet and brickwork is the least you can do to ensure that no third party is eavesdropping.
puddles decorate the asphalt, wild growth sprouting from beneath bricks and stones. you click your keyboard. you prefer an one-way instruction rather than a direct line to avoid getting the batcave location leaked.
“ 14:06 ... EMERGENCY = cybersecurity update — possible hacking of supercomputer [??] — knight knows bat secret! ”
you pull the wire out and put in into your pocket. despite the fresh air you inhale after locking yourself into oracle's headquarter, it fills you with anxiety rather than peace. you turn into every corner, skip a few impasses and alleys until you circle the big tower. no pedestrian is in sight and that doesn't shock you as much as it should. the newspaper-covered windows don't dare to open. adults, children, seniors... all gone or hiding.
you pick up the pace. more than one minute alone could cost you a missed message from robin. as you are about to step out of the street, you hit your head. you groan, your hand flying to your forehead. you blink up in sudden panic as you are met with the worst-possible view.
he stands tall, much taller than you've imagined him to be, fully armored. his visor flickers blue like 2000s water pistols from the bazar - reminiscent of the fact that you are cornered and not a little girl walking through a funfair.
the pebbles grind against your sole, positioning one feet behind you incase of escalation. it's the leg with your bruner phone. never would you bet that you could out-pace a grown man. still, having a way out gave you a sense of control.
he uncrosses his arms. the throbbing of your skin fades into the background as you clench your fingers. he towers over you despite leaning against the moldy wall. then he straightens his body, still leaving a modest gap between you two.
for the next second, none of you talk, waiting for the other to hit the first blow. however, this is far from a battleground. you furrow your brows. your body languge can be read and easily counterattacked. yet there he stands like a statue. he might toss you off your feet by bringing his long legs across the ground. his goons could hit you unconscious from any angle. the arkham knight doesn't call the shots with a finger snap either.
an image of alfred flashes before you.
"what is it?" what's meant to be yelled out to show fearlessness is mumbled out with dry vocal cords. you still hold your posture. if that's the only factor that can give you the illusion of victory then so be it. he has your name and coordinates.
"i'm hurt... is this how you treat an old companion?"
he shouldn't dare making jokes. the arkham knight might have mapped the entire city out but he is not going to use his findings against you - neither the flimsy minutes of crashing out through the phone.
"companions?" you hiss. "after you kidnapped my friend? i don't think you know what companionship is, arkham knight."
now he plunges forward, the unexpected proximity knocking the air out of you.
"you're asking me this? why don't you direct it at bruce, huh?" the raising volume through the tech alerts you, setting it apart from the one you heard through your headset.
"what's your issue with bruce - what's your motive? you want something out of me as another bait, don't you?" the post-rain breeze grazes your neck, the vest not optimal for the additional minutes you're losing. you should check up on alfred, get into contact with tim regarding barbara, learn where batman has been since he had crossed scarecrow.
your attention flicks to the side, cursing if this is a set-up to weaken communication to bruce. would he use feartoxin against you? he surely did have the means to do so but he hasn't... yet. what was he after? to lure a secret out of you? a threat? blackmail perhaps.
"because he did this to me," at first you don't grasp what this leads to, "this is all because of him!" his arms are angled, his gloves clenching.
you exhale through your nose. bruce? is he talking about the bruce wayne? what could bruce have possibly done to this man who is withering with frustration?
"w-what do you mean? you need to explain to me..." your tongue feels like a solid block of butter, your chest heaving. a single click and he exposes himself. his skin is red with anger, his cheeks wet, his lips dry. he has light orbs, a dominant nose and scratches. they are itched into his skin. you let your eyes glide over them. a shade of raven sticks to his forehead.
a surge of numbness goes through you. it's novelty and shields you from whatever exploration you are going dig out next. his dark lashes soften his hurt mien but the direct stare into your soul leaves you with growing question marks. why does he seem... familiar? the blue of his eyes, the jet-black of his hair, the J initial that is carved into him. you spend a shameless amount of time admiring the balance of his face, left with collages of individuals with similar features.
"speechless? of course... silence is what you all do best..."
his words roll past you. dark hair and blue eyes. dick comes to your mind, even... bruce. like father and son, you recollect as if this is a stupid coincidence. this wasn't the time to reminisce about bruce wayne's adoptive sons... you blink up and get a look of his profile, again.
a picture appears before you, framed in green but you can't remember where that picture hangs. behind licorice wallpaper with vintage patterns. the manor. a portrait of a boy who doesn't smile at the camera. he doesn't - it's his first time in the villa, his life prior an utter tradegy. he would make flattering jokes for his age. eat his sweets with a satisfied smile. his green gloves would pat the sugar crsytals away before dashing towards the batmobile.
your shoulder jerks backwards, turning away. your palms stick together. oh, but it can't be... no more do you want to be a spectator of this.
"what? cat got your tongue? not a single word?" his voice has changed so much from the pubescent teenager who was soft-spoken when the situation required seriousness. loud and joyful whenever baking with alfred was on the programme. shy and a little bit quiet when a girl of his age was around him.
something tugs at your upper arms and you squeeze your eyes shut. you can't. shock, disgust, oblivion. they tie themselves together into shame. he was too gone in your past, a little angle in the background. any possibility of him coming back...
"look at me."
it's the rawness. disloyalty is printed over you and for this reason you fear him. a little boy from the streets, alone once again.
"i hate it when people make me repeat myself!"
are you a victim of scarecrow's poison? you kind of wish you are. the newsletters reported the passing of a young jason peter todd, convincing everyone that the funeral was the last chapter of his shortened story.
but how? you pry your eyelids open to what he has become. a grown man that was heads taller than you, dominating your form with his touch alone.
a pearl of sweat runs down your back and what's meant to be the coldness accumulating around you is burning hot instead. the muscle in your mouth is weak as you try to make a sound. his bright orbs inspect you with disgust.
"jason- how?" you croak.
"don't call me by that name!" within his grip your shoulders drop. his face is as drenched as before, pulling you closer. "bruce he..." he swallows, his head falling. only now do you realize that there is something off with his hunched upper body. "he let me die there. he... left me there and-" he cuts himself. he inhales and exhales. you can't touch him. he has you right where he wants but not close. his head hangs low. panic pumps right through you.
"jay- please... tell me." this alone could make the entire situation way worse.
jason peers at you from beneath his brows, his hands tightening around you. he doesn't inflict pain on you, just bracing himself. "you really don't know?" he mumbles, hoisting himself up after you shake your head.
"joker. he held me captive there- he-" nausea overcomes him, his slick lashes sticking to his carved cheeks. a weak whine leaves your mouth, seeing black. oh, jason. little jason was left by himself with that wide-mouthed clown. you taste the bile that burns your throat.
"hey, hey, don't you make this about yourself." he can't be impish anymore. his tone rasps, "batman has tossed me to the side - just like you."
through the burning of your waterline you can decipher him moving his head from side to side, lifting an index like a warning. "and don't you dare find excuses, (name). how easy was it for you to forget about me too, hm?"
if he continues you will burst. there was no way around his question. you accepted his death with an afterthought that never led to anything more. that article was shallow and bruce's silence final. you were a kid whose concerns weren't taken seriously. handing out flyers, asking dwellers near the crime scene... you did non of that.
jason's eyes widen in surprise. no answer is coming out of you. here he is, having thought that you would scream at him, trying to defend yourself.
"i expected it from bruce, heck, even dick. but you? you would know that i couldn't go down like that... hold your stance against bruce. i really believed we had a mutual understanding. i was so so wrong."
"i accepted your departure." your neck is lowered, blinking tears away.
although subtle, his brows crunch. the last person he expected betrayal from went along with the police who registered him as gone - the exact moment he dissapeared. no one searched for little jason. as if batman- no, this wasn't about their relation anymore. the second son had wished that his adoptive father would've avenged him to stop the terror that hunted gotham. as a sign for justice. as a memoire.
"go on, hate me." you don't trust yourself with an apology. would he even want one over half a decade later?
"aren't you an honest woman..." he snickers although a drop falls from his tear sac. "why..." he looks at the steel blue sky, his arms sliding off. he chokes it out into the petrichor. "i was so young i- thought about you and dick. barbara and alfred too, every damned day in that hell."
you palm the warm patches he left on your biceps. his red-rimmed eyes are the same pair he had as a kid. despite his leaner appearance the pinch between his brows and his straight strands were proof that he was boywonder. wronged, fragile but loving.
"you should hate me," you rub your face. "i had sensed that bruce-" his head jerks. "but i never questioned. never brought it up. i failed you just like him," you gulp, a hand on your chest to show honesty. "if you're after him you should deal with me too. he... searched alone for you at night, jason. i never had the guts to tear his wounds open- i played along with him like a puppet."
as much as jason wanted to hold a grudge against bruce, he couldn't do the same to the rest. why would he? too cruel for his liking despite his tough exterior. his fantasies of getting rescued were misfortunate. he prayed every damn hour in that screwed building that his caretaker would've been the one to pull him out of the asylum, carrying him home at long last.
tears were spilled and words were spit. jason feels the same emptiness. this conversation was in vain. it wouldn't help his scars fade. he could still hear his snickering. the doctor above him shook in fear, the scalpel shuddering. oftentimes he dreads that he is exactly where he was years ago, not escaping the psychological loop.
under his delicate skin jason wishes someone would clasp his hands. to unveil that no one has forgotten about him. that his life is as valuable as it has been before. that he is worth the struggle to be cared for. a shoulder he can cry on, warmth to embrace him, old stories they can laugh about. just someone... please - tell him it will get better! maybe everything is a simulation. oh, how funny that would be. he got out of hell and is now dealing with its aftereffects. venom sparks through him.
"jason..."
he stiffens as something attaches to his front. in horror he makes out the shape of your head which is nestled against his armored chest. jason reminds himself to breath, his arms away from his sides. he can smell your fragrance, your shampoo mixed with the one he noticed emmiting from barbara. it hits his nostrils and settles deep in his belly. his jaw closes, your proximity keeping him on the edge between panic and swoon.
"a sorry won't undo what has happened. i just- it's wrong of me to look you in the eye and demand answers... you're still important to me, jason. you never left my mind - no one's! just... please don't cut me out any longer. too much time has passed- alfred would be so delighted to see you. everyone would. please jason, allow me to make it up to you... your pain matters to me, i get you. but... don't go again."
your hands are carefully placed on his lower torso. jason's eyes roll back, his nails pressing into his gloves. he should hold you tight by your arm and yank you away. shout and then shoot his grapple gun to get away from you. after all, his business here was done, ready to take on batman. if your words are empty promises like bruce's...
"let's start anew, jason. nothing is over - it's never too late. you can return home anytime."
you bring to mind how he isn't lost story. he can't be, the people around him have readjusted ever since his his loss. his portrait would befall you, often. you will welcome him with open arms - whenever he is ready. that despite his new role, he shouldn't forget to knock on the door of his family. no strings were burned. you want him here, to stay with you like back then.
"do you... do you really mean it?" he didn't leave his team unattended for your pitfalls, doesn't like being tricked into misery. so if you take this lightly - don't.
and you don't. jason could still find the pieces that had plummeted, with you. catch up on what had been taken away from him. call you if he needs help. take your hand and be lead through a gotham that is vivid and nostalgic. his head is about to fall onto yours. you lull him into neverland. sweet and tempting for normalcy. a life before those events. could this even work out? when he's the jinx in the middle?
"i- i need to think a-about this. is your... head hurt?" he stammers, cursing himself for showing this side of him. he felt guilty for clashing into you, underestimating his care for his old friend. he couldn't say sorry. he had to persevere the arkham knight act. this was him. yes, he could only be the arkham knight... jason's thoughts spin.
removing yourself from him, you lag. right, your forehead. i'm okay, you press your mouth together, melting because he does care. he yearns for his loved ones. they are part of his purpose. jason is still that young boy from the poverty-struck street, still robin whose smile captivated those in need. never has he lost his spark, his empathy and respect for others intact with his character.
you try your hardest not to smile, not to daunt him. there is so much to talk about.
he is unsure and restrained, mentally. like a tilting scale. jason wishes that you had not pulled your warmth away and embraced him a little... longer. his cheeks turn red. you and him, in the library. you wanted books with more pictures than text whereas he giggled at corny romances. they were meant for new adults... you would glimpse at each other, hiding behind old works. jason was friendly and never acted annoying like the boys of his age. so when he had a female companion around him... jason shakes his head, you both were nothing more than goofy teens with a crush. jason still feels his heart pounding, the rusted sensation unlocking a strange kind of bliss. he catches a glimpse of you and straightaway needs to pull himself together. to focus on his goal. batman still needs to be filled with his bullet. his blue visor clicks shut.
he throws an arm up, the grapple gun attaching to a rooftop. he tilts his chin at you. the arkham knight dissapears into the night while the device in your pocket vibrates.
/ comments & reblogs motivate us writers a lot. reqs are still open for ak! jason x fem! reader (see link above :)
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